


Earned Rewards

by QueerBluebird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bottom Dean Winchester, Cunnilingus, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Double Penetration, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Panty Kink, Pegging, Praise Kink, Rimming, Strap-Ons, Sub Dean Winchester, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerBluebird/pseuds/QueerBluebird
Summary: ~Dean wakes up on Saturday to the hazy light of morning creeping up the bed, Cas draped half over his back, warm and heavy and grounding, and thinks that he has fucking earned today.~Dean wants to try something new in the bedroom. Castiel wants to give it to him, but only if he earns it. Meg is happy to assist.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52
Collections: The AO3 SPN Kink Meme





	Earned Rewards

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [theao3spnkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theao3spnkinkmeme) collection. 



> Writing this story was a lot of firsts for me, so please be gentle. It also took considerably longer than I thought it would when I started writing it (I can already tell this is a lesson I will need to learn several times), ~~so I am posting it unbetad, and expect to update it with a few tweaks some time in the coming week. I will adjust this message when the final version is posted.~~
> 
> As of August 25, 2020, this work has been updated to fix a few things. With many thanks to [sapphirecobalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirecobalt/pseuds/sapphirecobalt), who very kindly betaed this for me. I am grateful. Any remaining errors are either my own oversight or stubbornness.
> 
> _To the OP of the prompt, and anyone else who drops by, I hope you enjoy!_
> 
> **AO3 SPN Kink Meme Prompt:**
> 
> Cas and Meg DP Dean, please and thank you. Established relationship preferable. D/s fine but optional. Can be any two of them in an established relationship, inviting in the third, or it can be a stable poly triad. Either way is fine with me. Aftercare would be nice. Dean PoV, please!
> 
> DNW: non-con, humiliation, bathroom kinks, masochism (ie, I know realistically this might hurt but can we just pretend it doesn't and focus on the size kink aspect?)
> 
> **@ Kink Meme Mods: please de-anon me**

Dean wakes up on Saturday to the hazy light of morning creeping up the bed, Cas draped half over his back, warm and heavy and grounding, and thinks that he has fucking  _ earned _ today. He spends a long several minutes grinning into the pillow, where no one but himself will ever know how sappy and ridiculous he looks, before the pressure of his bladder finally forces him to move. Cas grumbles under his breath and clutches Dean tighter for a moment as he works to extract himself, but he manages it, leaving Cas to burrow into Dean’s pillow as he heads for the bathroom. 

His stomach is already twinging with excited nerves, and he has to spend a long minute thinking about paperwork at the garage before he can get on with business. When that’s taken care of, and his breath is minty fresh, he returns to the bedroom to find Cas sitting at the edge of the bed. He’s rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and his hair is even more rucked up than Dean left it last night. Dean has to bite his lip and breathe deep against the feeling that crowds up in his chest seeing him there, looking warm and comfortable in a bed they’ve made their own.

To waylay the feeling, he sidles in between Cas’ knees and sinks carefully to the floor. Runs his hands up Cas’ thighs and around his hips. Presses in close, until the sleep-warm scent of Cas takes him over, until his nose brushes Cas’ stomach and he can feel the interested twitch of Cas’ cock against his collarbone. He tilts his head and looks up through his lashes in the way he knows will provoke Cas, to find wide blue eyes staring at him avidly.

“Mornin’ Sir.” It comes out a little cheeky, a little informal, but they’re only getting started, and today is for Dean. Today is a reward. And he thinks that it’s only much later that Castiel will make him pay for his sass. 

Castiel raises one eyebrow, slowly, but Dean looks back at him steadily until he softens, and one corner of his mouth tilts up. He brushes a hand into Dean’s hair, tugging just enough to send a wave of prickles down Dean’s back.

“I see. I’m afraid you’ll have to exercise just a little more restraint though. Why don’t you be my good boy and go get some breakfast started, hmm? You may wear your panties, and an apron if you wish, but I expect the rest of you bare, so I can look at you.” 

Dean swallows hard, head nodding without his say-so, and his “Yes, Sir,” comes out a little breathy. A hand comes up under his chin, tilts his head back even further, until the stretch is bordering on discomfort, and Castiel kisses him on the mouth. Just a soft press of lips, chaste. Then he lets Dean go, and Dean scrambles to his feet to obey. Castiel disappears into the bathroom as Dean is stepping into his favorite green panties - wide enough to hold him snug, lacy enough to show him off - but he’s still careful not to linger as he situates himself. 

In the kitchen, Meg is lounging on one of the tall chairs at the island, feet propped up on the other. She’s got her coffee mug in one hand and her phone in the other, seemingly engrossed in whatever she’s looking at. He must make a sound though because she glances up, and almost immediately a smirk creeps onto her face. She gives him a slow once-over, lingering on the panties and his bare chest and humming out a pleased “Mmmm.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and he knows it comes out like a pout. He can feel the blush in his cheeks and creeping down over his throat, knows that will only please her more.

“Is this a reward for you or for me?” Her voice is teasing, but he knows she means it, too, and it leaves him teetering on the knife edge between shying away in embarrassment at being seen this way and preening at the praise of turning her on. 

“Maybe you should be thanking me for letting you share it,” he tells her, fishing down the coffee and filters to get a fresh brew started for himself and Cas. Meg is usually up before them when she stays over, and she only ever makes just enough for herself when they’re still in bed. 

“I’m pretty sure this is Clarence thanking  _ me _ for giving it to  _ you _ , actually,” she says, and he shoots her a glare over his shoulder, because damn her, she’s probably right. She winks at him, goddamn it, and shuts down whatever perfectly scathing comeback he was about to come up with by pointedly raising her phone in between them.

He sighs, but it’s a put-on sort of thing, and he knows that she knows it. Because really, he’s grateful for Meg. For how good she’s been to Cas. For calling him out on his shit when he was too scared to admit, even to himself, what he felt about Cas. For the way her eyes had lit up when Castiel had asked if she would do this with them. For being someone he trusts, against all odds, with this.

The silence between them is comfortable as he gets out his apron, one Castiel bought him specifically so he could make Dean cook in his panties (and, that one time, buck naked), and he ties it carefully before he sets about making eggs and bacon. He hums some Zeppelin under his breath while he works, and if he shakes his ass a little when he catches Meg watching him over the top of her phone, it's not something he'd ever admit to; though he does know exactly how good his ass looks in these panties, framed by this apron and nothing else, because Castiel had taken pictures when the apron was new, and had shown them off to Dean with great relish.

Castiel arrives in the kitchen just as Dean is taking the eggs off the heat. He still looks remarkably rumpled, barefoot in sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s worn soft with age, but his eyes are sharp and intent on Dean. As soon as Dean’s safely clear of the stove, one of Castiel’s hands lands on his hip, the other on his jaw, and then Castiel is licking into his mouth like they’ve been making out for hours.

Dean makes a sound that is absolutely not a whimper, and grips at Castiel’s shoulders to steady his suddenly uncooperative knees. The hand on his hip slides around to his ass, palm wide and proprietary over green lace, and squeezes once, hard. Everything’s gone a little hazy except for the warm press of Castiel against his front and the hot, slick sweep of his tongue; Dean leans into it, takes it, lets Castiel do whatever he wants. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Meg says, and her voice sounds a little distant to Dean, but Castiel breaks off with a grin that’s a touch feral, the sight of which does absolutely nothing to shore up Dean’s knees. 

“That can be arranged,” he tells her, and then gives one last caress of his lips and tongue against Dean’s pliant mouth. He pats Dean on the ass, once, too soft to be a spank, but not gentle. “Don’t forget the toast.”

Dean stares at him dumbly for several long moments as Castiel crosses the kitchen to Meg, kisses her in turn. He’s a little gentler with her, a little slower, but there’s no less tongue. Maybe a little bit more from her than Dean had been cognizant enough to attempt. Dean bites his lip, watching them. Swallows hard and adjusts himself carefully under the apron. Turns back to the cabinets to fetch down two coffee mugs, pouring some for himself and lining Castiel’s up with the sugar beside the coffee maker.

With careful focus, he slices some of the homemade sourdough that Cas has been trying to perfect over the last couple of months, and which Dean had even confessed to liking once, just so Cas would give him that pleased smile that’s all gums and crinkled eyes. Now he thinks about that stupid smile whenever he eats it and it makes him suspect that Castiel is trying to train him into eating healthy food. He gets out the jam - seasonal, from a local farmer’s market - without being asked, and thinks fuck it; some sacrifices are worth it.

Castiel makes his coffee while Dean plates everything up, puts the pans in the sink to soak, and sets aside his apron. They all three take their food and retreat to the table off the kitchen. There’s room enough for six here, but Castiel adjusts his chair until his clothed knee presses flush against Dean’s naked one, and Dean shivers a little at the contrasting sensation between this point of warm contact and the coolness of the seat against his thinly-clothed ass.

Castiel’s eyes are on him immediately. “Are you cold? We can bring one of the throws in.” 

Dean shakes his head. “I’m good, Sir.” He’s been running warm all morning, alternating between nerves and arousal; the cool of the chair is honestly a little bit of a relief.

Castiel pets one hand over the back of his neck briefly, giving a gentle squeeze that makes Dean sigh and lean towards him a little, then tucks into his food. Dean pointedly ignores the gently teasing “Awww” from Meg’s side of the table as he gets started on his own breakfast. Castiel’s leg remains pressed against his own, the contact steady and grounding.

Castiel and Meg chat casually over their food, just everyday stuff about Castiel’s work at the library, and Meg’s at the bar in turn. Dean stays mostly quiet, half listening, half vacillating wildly between daydreaming about what’s going to happen later and trying desperately not to. At first, when Dean had gotten quiet like this about sex, it had worried Castiel, and it had taken several conversations and a brief period of awkward overcompensation on Dean’s part before they’d reached an understanding in which Dean doesn’t have to think too hard about words, but does have to notify Castiel immediately if any of his nerves become the bad sort. They don’t usually, and it’s good to be able to just feel things without worrying Castiel.

The food is good, if he does say so himself, and Dean basks, a little, in how content he feels. There had been a long stretch of time when he’d thought he could never have something like this – good food, in a home he chose for himself, listening to the conversation of people he cares about and who care about him in turn. He still feels a little baffled how he got here, but he’s glad for it.

When their plates are empty and the conversation has reached a lull, Castiel kisses Dean softly, instructs him to take the dishes to the kitchen and come to the living room when he’s done.

In the living room, he finds Castiel and Meg ensconced on the couch, shoulders together, watching one of Cas’ nature documentaries, which Meg and Dean both tolerate when it’s Cas’ turn in charge of the remote only because Cas loves them so much. Meg has her feet tucked up on the couch, but Castiel’s are firmly on the floor, knees spread. When he sees Dean, he smiles and gestures to the cushion resting on the floor between them. 

Dean settles carefully on the cushion, back against the couch, and one of Castiel’s knees immediately comes up over his shoulder, calf squeezing his chest briefly before Castiel’s bare foot settles on his thigh. Castiel’s other leg presses solid and steady against his side. He settles a little more firmly, hugs Castiel’s leg to his chest, rests his head against the side of Castiel’s knee. A hand shuffles into his hair and pets him slowly. 

For a while, he drifts, thoughts coming and going in waves. Castiel’s hand in his hair is soothing, the weight and press of his legs a comfort. The shapes and colors on the tv screen are nice, but he doesn’t feel any particular investment in what’s going on.

Instead, he thinks about what he’s asked for. About the two weeks before the conference, which Castiel had spent provoking him, mercilessly, with an increasingly large series of toys. “Preparation is important,” he had said, serious as ever but with that particular  _ look _ in his eyes, before using his cock, and only his cock, to fuck Dean into loose compliance. And Dean has loved the way Castiel’s cock fills him up ever since that first time he got it inside him, but towards the end the toys had been big enough that Castiel himself was moderate in comparison. And every time he’d begged for more Castiel had just told him he had to earn it first.

Just as the new episode is starting, Castiel’s touch changes, and it brings Dean back into his body. At first it’s just the hand in his hair getting a little more aggressive, slowly rocking his head this way and that, rucking his hair up and then soothing it back down. Then there are fingertips digging into his scalp with just a hint of nail, and a bit of tugging. Then the foot that’s been resting on his thigh starts to wander, sliding warm and smooth along the inside of his leg between his knee and his crotch.

Above his head, Meg sighs out a pleased moan, and Dean realizes with a sudden jolt of arousal that underneath the low sound of the tv he can make out the sounds of kissing. There’s a rumbling hum of agreement from Castiel, and his toes curl a little, digging into Dean’s thigh. Dean’s breath hitches slightly, and his heart rate picks up, and he’s suddenly vividly aware of the lace of his panties against his cock.

He closes his eyes and just listens for a minute, savoring. He can feel the ebb and flow of their kisses in the shifting press of Castiel’s legs. He thinks about turning onto his knees, nosing up Castiel’s thigh, using his mouth to consign Castiel’s sweatpants to the laundry pile. He knows Meg likes to watch that, would most likely get a hand down her own pants if he did. But he’s impatient for something else today, and there are some things he has to take care of first.

Castiel’s hand brushes down his arm and catches his wrist as he stands, and Dean pauses to look at him. “Have a  _ thorough _ shower while you’re up.” Dean recognizes the emphasis on “thorough,” and though he finds the process a bit awkward and unpleasant, he knows what that sort of prep means; the thought alone has him nodding hastily.

“Yes, Sir.” Castiel lets him go, and Dean heads for the bathroom, but Castiel’s voice halts him again as he passes into the kitchen.

“Dean.” Dean looks back, meets Castiel’s serious gaze. “Do  _ not _ play with your cock.”

A shiver runs down his spine. The way Castiel says it, possessive and firm, has Dean’s body responding in ways that make the command immediately much harder to obey. He swallows hard, repeats “Yes, Sir,” and retreats to their bedroom and its en suite, where he does exactly as he’s been told.

While he’s in the shower, he hears the sound of water running elsewhere in the house, and when he emerges from the bathroom, warm, and damp, and very, very clean, his eyes land on Meg and Castiel immediately. He nearly swallows his tongue choking back the sound that tries to escape at the sight of them.

They’ve pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed, and Castiel is perched on the edge with Meg straddling his lap. She’s kissing him like her life depends on it, her arms around his shoulders. He’s got one hand gripping her ass, encouraging the slow grind of her hips against him, and the other up her shirt.

Dean pads closer on bare feet, sinks to his knees beside the bed, where he’s got a good view of the outline of Castiel’s hand pinching one of Meg’s nipples. Her back arches and she hums encouragement into his mouth. Dean clasps his hands behind his back, lets his hips flex just slightly, in time with their rhythm.

Castiel doesn't stop kissing Meg, but after a minute the hand that had been up her shirt reemerges to reach for Dean. He leans in until it makes contact with the side of his face, nuzzles Castiel's wrist, kisses his palm. The pads of Castiel's fingers drag rough along his stubble, and when Castiel’s thumb sweeps across his bottom lip he lets it slip inside to press over his tongue. Castiel groans into Meg's mouth, and the sound sends a thrill down Dean's spine, makes his eyes slip closed and his cock twitch. At this rate it’ll be no time at all before the press of lace against him starts riding a fine line between arousing and uncomfortable. 

“Were you enjoying the show?” He opens his eyes at Meg’s voice and finds them both staring down at him. Meg smirks. Her face is flushed and her eyes are bright and, fuck, it’s a good look on her.

He wants to say something snarky, but when Castiel’s thumb slips out of his mouth, pressing wet over his bottom lip as it leaves, what comes out instead is whine and a breathy “Fuck yeah.” He already knows the answer, but just to hear her say it he asks “Is he hard?”

She bites her lip and rolls her hips down against Castiel, slower and firmer than she had been, her knees flexing a little wider on the bed. Castiel’s head tips back on his shoulders and his breath huffs out of him. “Since the living room,” she says, sounding fairly smug.

“Don’t think I won’t remember this later,” Castiel tells them, but his voice is fond.

“We could punish him now,” Meg suggests, and Dean knows his eyes are wide when he shakes his head at her. She ignores him, of course. Leans in to run her tongue up the exposed length of Castiel’s neck, nips at his jaw. “We could just fuck right here, make him watch. We’ve got the whole rest of today to make good on his reward, he could wait a little longer.”

Dean’s a little embarrassed by the sound he makes, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches as Castiel fists one hand in her hair and angles her head so he can lick back into her mouth. Watching them kiss will never not be hot as fuck, but Dean wants in on the action, like, now. If they make him wait any longer he’ll… Fuck, he doesn’t even know. He clenches one hand over the other to keep himself still until they break apart.

“Mmm, I’m feeling merciful.” Castiel says, and Dean would sag with relief if he wasn’t so amped up on anticipation and arousal.

“Please,” he begs, for good measure, serious now, eyes locked on Castiel's face. Castiel looks down at him. His eyes sweep over the flush of Dean’s chest and rest hot on Dean’s cock where it’s now pressing taut against his panties. When his gaze comes back up, Dean holds their eye contact. “Please.”

Castiel smiles at him, pleased and possessive, and that expression never fails to make Dean feel molten inside, the heat of it burning in his ears and down the back of his neck. “That’s my good boy.” Castiel says, and Dean feels a little dizzy with it. “You’ve been so good for so long, haven’t you Dean? I think you deserve your reward now.”

He taps Meg’s thigh, and she slips off his lap, immediately stripping off her shirt and pants. She’s not wearing a bra, and the red of her own panties is slicked darker between her thighs. Watching her climb onto the bed is torturous.

When she’s settled comfortably against their pillows, she crooks a finger at Dean. “Come on then gorgeous, I want your mouth on me.” And Dean would thank God if he believed in that sort of thing. Hell yes. He looks to Castiel, who nods, and then he’s scrambling up onto the bed after her.

He doesn’t waste any time, even as he hears Castiel laughing softly at his haste, just crawls right up between her legs and presses their mouths together. Her mouth is hot and slick, her lips a little swollen already, and the knowledge of how they got that way burns in his gut. She lets him have his way for a long minute, hands roaming his chest and shoulders, before she fists one hand in his hair, tugging him away and urging him down.

He goes eagerly, disregarding the sounds of Castiel moving about the room outside his line of sight, and letting Meg’s hand in his hair set the pace. She tips her head back to give him room as he mouths his way down her neck to her breasts and he lavishes attention there, biting softly and rolling his tongue against the firm peak of each nipple in turn. The sounds she makes go straight to his cock, heavy and wanting between his legs, and he shifts his hips aimlessly. His hands roam, caressing, along her thighs and hips and sides, and he relishes the rasp of his calloused palms along the soft, smooth expanse of her skin. When the hand in his hair guides him down again, he presses messy, open-mouthed kisses across her stomach and her hips.

He only takes a moment to enjoy the sight of her panties before slipping them down and off of her, tossing them aside heedlessly. After that, it’s easy and familiar to get her thighs over his shoulders and settle down on his stomach. She lets him take his time, tucking her arms behind her head to watch him down the length of her body. He starts with a hickey on the inside of her thigh, and it makes her laugh, but it’s a breathless laugh. He pulls back a little to admire his handiwork, presses a thumb into the blossoming bruise until she hooks one ankle around the back of his neck and drags his attention in to where she wants it. She’s flushed and wet with arousal, and he uses both thumbs to hold her open, ducks his head and licks a broad stripe up to her clit. Firm flicks of his tongue make her hips twitch against him and broad, flat sweeps make her sigh and moan. His head feels full with the scent of her arousal, and he closes his eyes, lets himself get swept away in it, presses his tongue inside her with a moan of his own.

The bed dips beside him and he’s distantly aware of Castiel joining them. He crawls over Dean, a warm slide of skin against Dean's back, his knees bracketing Dean’s hips. The weight of Meg’s thigh against Dean’s shoulder is replaced by the wet heat of Castiel’s tongue as he presses open-mouthed kisses across the freckles there.

“You’re being so good.” He murmurs against Dean’s ear. “Good boy, don’t stop.” His tone is pleased and praising in a way that makes Dean whine, makes his mouth even more desperate against Meg. He wants to be good. He’s going to be so good for them.

Castiel’s warmth disappears from his back, and then his steady grip is urging Dean up onto his knees. He sways a little, but a pair of firm hands come to rest on his ass, sliding up under the lace of his panties. Castiel noses along the edge of the lace, bites Dean through it, making his whole body jolt before pressing back into it.

"Beautiful," Castiel says, his breath hot through the lace as he noses his way across Dean's ass. "If I could keep you like this always, I would."

Dean moans, works his tongue deeper into Meg, and hopes it's enough to distract her from the blush he knows is creeping over his face and ears. 

Castiel's fingers tuck into the panties, start dragging them down. Dean struggles to focus on what he's doing, torn between the way Meg is moving against his mouth, and the biting kisses following the waist of his panties down the rise of his ass, the way the lace shifts and presses against his cock. Castiel gives one final tug, and Dean's cock springs free, and it's a relief and a new torment all at once.

There’s no transition, no warning at all, just the sudden shock of Castiel’s tongue licking from right behind his balls up and over his hole, aggressive and hot. All the breath goes out of him for a moment, leaves him gasping, forehead pressed to Meg’s thigh.

“Fuck, oh god.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, what words he’s mumbling into Meg’s skin as Castiel’s tongue presses over him again and again. “Cas, Castiel, oh! Sir, please. Oh fuck, please.”

Castiel doesn’t respond, but Meg’s hands are on him again, tilting his face up until he opens his eyes and looks at her.

“I’m not gonna strap up until you make me come.” She says, and how the fuck can she put words together right now? “You want your reward, huh? Don’t stop, you’ve gotta make me come.”

He nods, shaky, looks down, and the sight of her, flushed hot and slick with arousal, only makes his desperation worse. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life, his cock throbbing in time with each press of Castiel’s mouth. He struggles to focus, presses two fingers into Meg, watches her take them with an eager roll of her hips and a pleased moan. He curls them carefully inside of her and thrusts, shifting the angle of each thrust until she throws her head back with a moan.

“Oh, there! Fuck yes, right there, that’s it!” Castiel echoes Meg’s moan and almost immediately Dean can feel his tongue pressing inside and  _ fuck, _ he’s gonna die before he ever gets his reward, but what a way to go. 

“Jesus fuck,” he says, ready to surrender all coordination, reward be damned, but Meg thrusts her hips up against him and gets one hand back in his hair.

“Don’t you dare stop.” Her other hand joins his, fingers fumbling to frame her clit. “Come on baby,” she says, urging. “You’re so close now. I’m close, make me come. Make me come so we can fuck you.” A desperate whine in his throat, he gets his mouth on her again, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the press of his tongue and the thrust of his hand and the way Meg’s body gets more and more tense underneath and around him.

Castiel takes mercy on him, picking up a rhythm Dean can follow, that Meg seems to like. Her hand in his hair tightens almost to the point of pain. Castiel thrusts his tongue into Dean, hard, just as Meg cries out, the movement of her hips breaking into shudders as she contracts around his fingers and everything gets a whole lot slicker.

Castiel eases up immediately, and Dean’s trembling as he works Meg through it, panting into the divot of her thigh and slowly easing the press of his fingers until her body goes lax everywhere they’re in contact.

He almost feels like he came too, his head hazy and unfocused. But his cock is still aching between his legs and his hole feels disappointingly empty without Castiel’s attentions.

Castiel manhandles him over onto his back, drags the abandoned panties the rest of the way down his legs and tosses them over the edge of the bed. He stretches up alongside Dean, mouths over his chin where he’s slick from Meg, and kisses him. Dean makes an effort to kiss back, but mostly he just lays there, his whole body thrumming.

“You did so good,” Castiel murmurs, in between slow kisses. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve been so patient. You’ve done everything I’ve asked. You went above and beyond at your conference, and you’ve been so very good to Meg, and to me. It’s your turn now. We’re going to give you what you’ve asked for. We’re going to help you feel so good. You’ve more than earned it. Are you ready?”

Dean nods against him. “Yeah, yes please, I’m ready.” Between the soft praise, the grounding press of Castiel’s warmth along his side, and the soothing motions Castiel’s hands make over Dean’s chest and belly and thighs, he’s eased back from desperation into a steadier, simmering arousal.

Having left at some point during Castiel’s litany of kisses, Meg chooses that moment to rejoin them on the bed, and when Dean looks at her he has to bite his lip. The bold lines of her harness are hugging her hips and a sleek, matte black cock juts proud between her legs. It's been a while since he's seen her wear this one, but it was the first cock she ever fucked him with, and he's pleased to see it now. It’s plenty long, but fairly slim, and it’s got a little bit of give that not all of her toys have. Just looking at it makes him want, and from the smirk on her lips she knows it.

She presses up against his side, a mirror image of Castiel, hard cock against his thigh and all, and god, he’s about to have them inside of him. In reality it hasn’t been that long since he asked for this, but he’s been thinking about it a lot longer, and Castiel has been teasing him relentlessly ever since he brought it up. Now he’s about to have it and it feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest.

Castiel leans over Dean to kiss Meg, and each little sound and flash of pink tongue between them adds to the coil of heat in Dean’s belly. When they break apart, Meg lays back, and between them she and Castiel coax Dean into following until he’s kneeling up over her thighs.

His cock brushes against hers, and it’s too dry where he’s so achingly sensitive, but the sight alone, fuck. To hell with keeping his hands off his cock. He licks, messily, over one palm, slicks saliva and precome down himself. The sudden contact is so good that it punches the breath out of him in a groan. He and Meg are both watching with wide eyes when he catches their cocks together, and then he’s thrusting against hers through the loose C of his fingers.

It’s so fucking good. At this point maybe anything would be, but his hand is warm and it’s slick and the tip of Meg’s cock has a little flare just below it that presses over him just right on each thrust. He loses himself in it a little, staring down at the alternating flashes of his own flushed skin and black silicone; has just enough presence of mind to keep the pace slow.

He hadn’t been paying attention to Castiel until a large hand grips the back of his neck, bringing him up short. “That’s enough of that,” Castiel growls, slowly bearing him down against Meg until he’s forced to brace both hands on the bed to keep his weight off her. Dean just lets it happen, whining shamelessly as that same hand stills his hips, but taking the opportunity to kiss Meg. There’s the brief warning of knuckles brushing down over his ass, and then two of Castiel’s fingers are pressing into him, steady and perfect and slick with skin-warmed lube. He groans against Meg’s mouth and she hums back, her hands roaming his chest.

He’s already slick and sensitive from Castiel’s mouth and tongue, relaxed with the slow build of pleasure, and after all of Castiel’s frankly satanic “practice” his body takes it with ease.

Castiel hums a pleased note, presses light over Dean’s prostate like the goddamn tease he is, withdraws, and comes back with more lube. It’s not as warm this time, makes Dean gasp and clench down, but Castiel must fucking like it because he groans and sinks both fingers to the knuckle. Dean gives up on kissing Meg, just closes his eyes and rocks softly against Castiel’s hand as her mouth wanders over his jaw, his ear, his throat.

Castiel doesn’t spend long at it, thank fuck, stroking into Dean smooth and easy until his moans turn into pleas for more. Castiel takes mercy, and there’s a brief, awkward shuffle of limbs as he helps Dean reposition. One of his hands on Dean’s hip guides him back and down, and then Meg’s cock is pressing against him and into him and god, it’s familiar and  _ good _ . He sinks all the way down in one easy slide, head tipped back in pleasure, Castiel pressing open-mouthed kisses across his shoulders.

Meg’s soft “Fuck, yes” draws his gaze back to her, and her expression – riveted, pupils blown wide as she stares down at the flushed bob of his cock and past, to where her own cock is pressing into him - is as much of a turn on as the feel of it inside him. It’s always a turn on, how much this gets to her. He rolls his hips, restless for motion, and Castiel licks his way up Dean’s neck.

“That’s it, nice and easy.” Castiel’s praise is low and rough by Dean’s ear. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” Dean feels drugged, pleasure rolling up his spine like an incoming tide as he bounces, slow, on Meg’s cock. He makes eye contact with her, tells Castiel “ _ So _ good, Sir.” Meg gives him a little thrust of her hips in reply, biting her lip as he gasps.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Castiel says, sounding unbearably fucking smug seeing as it’s not even his cock currently pushing Dean’s buttons. The hand that’s been riding Dean’s hip squeezes, slows his rhythm to a grinding flex, and Dean’s not even embarrassed by the pathetic sound of disappointment that slips out of him. Castiel’s chuckle is not at all sympathetic. “Easy now.” He says, and then Dean can’t even think about his disappointment because Castiel’s fingers are back, pressing slick around his rim where Meg’s cock is already buried inside him.

There’s a lot more stretch this time, but Dean doesn’t mind, rocks his hips back into the pressure, the stretch, the fullness. He mumbles “Come on,” and “Please,” and “I can take it Sir, please,” but Castiel just takes his time, easing in one finger, and then another while Dean gasps and pants. Meg pets his thighs, murmurs soft praise that Dean would normally object to from anyone but Castiel. But in this moment he takes it; takes Meg’s cock, Castiel’s fingers, the praise, the attention. Wants more, and confesses to it wordlessly. Castiel gets a rhythm going, smooth and steady and the press of his fingers forces Meg’s cock up against Dean’s prostate on each thrust, makes Dean shift his hips and groan in growing desperation.

He’s about to start begging for real when Castiel shifts up behind him, the hand on Dean’s hip sliding up and around to his chest. Castiel presses himself against the length of Dean’s back, warm and solid. His fingers slip away, and then Dean can feel his cock, blazing hot as Castiel thrusts up along Dean’s ass, once, twice. He groans, the sound muffled against the back of Dean’s neck.

“Okay.” He says, and kisses Dean’s shoulder, the kiss soft in a way that makes Dean’s chest tight. “If you need to stop, you’ll tell me right away, understand?”

Dean nods a little frantically. “Yeah, yes. Yes, Sir.” He always has his safewords, and besides which, he knows Castiel will take anything he says today at face value. “I’m good, I’m great. I want it, want you both, please.”

“ _ Good _ boy.” Castiel tells him, voice deep and pleased in a way that goes right to Dean’s aching cock. He pulls away a little, slips the head of his cock down along Dean’s crack and then he’s  _ right _ fucking there, nudging up against Dean where he and Meg are already joined.

“Oh god,” Dean says, and then Castiel is pressing  _ in _ and Dean sees stars. This time, the stretch is blinding. It can’t be all that much more than it was with Castiel’s fingers, but it  _ is _ more, and-  _ Fuck _ .

It feels impossible, but Castiel gives it to him, keeps giving it to him, working his way in with slow, rocking thrusts, a little deeper every time. Dean struggles to keep his hips still, not wanting to mess up the delicate balance Castiel has going. He fumbles at his chest until he finds Castiel’s hand, slips his fingers between the ones already splayed over his racing heart; gropes at his thigh until Meg grabs his other hand. He aches desperately to touch himself, to beg them to touch him, but not yet.

Castiel bottoms out with a low, fervent sound, his hips coming flush with the rise of Dean’s ass, and oh  _ fuck _ , that’s  _ it _ . They’re both inside him, buried to the hilt, and none - fucking  _ none _ \- of Castiel’s teasing prepared him for this. For the aching stretch of it. For the fullness. For the way he’s pinned in place from both directions, unable to move for himself without upsetting their careful arrangement of limbs, but held steady between them. He clings to their hands like a lifeline.

“Oh god,” he says, again, maybe the closest he’s ever come to prayerful, and their breath comes loud in the quiet of the room for a long moment.

“Okay,” he says, breathless, “I’m good. Okay.” And Castiel obliges him.

He starts out achingly slow, drawing out until the head of his cock catches at Dean’s rim before pressing in again, giving Dean time to adjust. The stretch eases over into pleasure and Dean finds himself gasping out  _ yeah _ and  _ more _ until Castiel starts to fuck him a little harder, a little faster, with each plea that falls from his lips.

Castiel growls “Lean down,” and Dean doesn’t want to relinquish his hold on their hands but he does and it’s worth it, because Castiel gets his hands on Dean’s hips and the angle is  _ better _ , deeper, unreal.

Meg thumbs over one of his nipples, pinches hard enough to make him cry out, and then she’s fucking him too. She has almost no leverage with her legs pinned as they are, but the little bit she does have is enough. Her hips roll in time with Castiel, and their combined motion pushes the tip of her cock over Dean’s prostate again and again and again.

Somewhere over his head Castiel’s voice rumbles out, and it takes a long moment for his words to register. A litany of praise that Dean has no idea how he has the breath for because the steady pace of his hips doesn’t falter. Telling Dean that he’s good. That he feels so good on Castiel’s cock. That he’s beautiful. That Castiel loves to see him like this.

That Castiel loves him.

Dean’s fucking burning up. Castiel’s words ring in his ears. His whole body pulses. He wonders for a breathless moment if he’s going to come just like this. He almost thinks he could, but then…

“Meg, touch his cock,” Castiel growls out, and finally he sounds about as desperate as Dean feels.

Meg does immediately, her free hand slipping between their stomachs to wrap around him, stroking his cock in exactly the way she knows he likes best, and all the tension coalesces in a blinding rush. He gasps out an “Oh fuck” and then he’s coming, shuddering, crying out, with both of them filling him up and surrounding him and holding him.

He sees his come streak up over Meg’s chest in time with the throb of his body as she strokes him through it. He hears Castiel gasp his name, reverent. He thinks his soul might be leaving his body. And then everything gets rather hazy for a time.

When Dean comes back to himself, Castiel has already pulled out, and his arms are strong and steady around Dean again, holding him upright against his chest. With deeply uncoordinated cooperation on Dean’s part, he helps Dean lift off of Meg and flop onto his back beside her. He goes in a sprawl, boneless and dazed, but rolls his head to look at Castiel when one hand squeezes his knee. Castiel looks wild and flushed and hungry, but his voice is soft when he asks “Are you okay?”

A giddy bubble of endorphins spills out of Dean in what is absolutely  _ not _ a giggle and he tells Castiel “I am fucking  _ great _ ,” and then belatedly tacks on a “Sir.” Castiel smiles warmly at him and Dean has no idea what he ever did to get this lucky but he’s gonna hold onto it with both fucking hands.

He lets himself feel just the tiniest bit sappy about it as Castiel turns away and growls at a smirking Meg.

“How do you want it?”

“I think I could stand to do some of the work.” She says, and they fumble to switch positions, Castiel on his back next to Dean as Meg throws one leg over him and settles onto his cock with confident familiarity. They both groan, loud, and then they’re off.

Meg does start out doing the work. She squeezes Castiel’s sides with her legs and  _ rides _ him, her hips rolling in a way Dean knows from experience feels pretty fucking amazing. She’s got her head tossed back, her eyes closed, both hands squeezing at her own nipples, her strap-on bobbing between them.

They can both come like this, Dean knows, but Castiel’s still got that wild look about him, must not be content letting Meg set the pace, because he gets his feet under him, starts thrusting up against every backward roll of her hips. The slap of skin on skin is loud in the room, and the sight of them, aggressive in a way they were not at all with Dean, sends warm aftershocks of arousal through him.

It’s not long before Meg loses her rhythm against the increasing force of Castiel’s thrusts, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all, just gasps, leans forward to brace one hand on Castiel’s shoulder, the other on the headboard, and shouts “Yes! Fuck yes, fuck me, come on!” Castiel gets both hands on her hips, grip tight enough Dean thinks she might have bruises to show for it tomorrow, and he does, fucking up into her hard enough that the bed picks up his rhythm and the feel of it makes Dean want to laugh but he bites his lip instead.

He doesn’t know where to look. At Meg’s face, partly obscured by the tumble of her hair, eyes scrunched shut, brow furrowed, mouth open and panting. At Castiel’s face, eyes wide and trailing up and down Meg’s body like a caress, jaw clenched as he huffs breaths through his teeth. Or at the place where their bodies join, both of them slick and flushed beneath the wild bob of Meg’s strap-on.

Meg’s escalating cries draw his attention to her face in time to watch her expression contort before she throws her head back with a drawn-out shout. He can't help the little sympathetic groan that escapes his lips at the taut arch of her back and the shuddering twitch of her thighs. 

Castiel doesn’t break pace, and Dean knows he’s chasing his own orgasm even as he draws out Meg’s. She falls forward, thighs still trembling, bites at his jaw and licks her way into his mouth when he gasps. Something about the timing, or the angle, or the press of her tongue must do it for Castiel, because he fucking growls, pulling Meg down hard to meet one last thrust, keeping himself buried to the hilt as his body goes taut and the motion of his hips subsides into arrhythmic jerks. 

Dean murmurs a soft, shockingly fervent “Fuck,” and thinks he’ll never get tired of watching Castiel come. Of watching either of them come, really.

He’s not sure where he finds the energy, but Dean doesn’t even wait for the tension to drain all the way out of them before he’s shoving himself across the scant distance and pressing against the blazing heat of their bodies so he can kiss Castiel for himself. Meg sits up to give Dean room, which makes Castiel’s whole body twitch. He must be feeling lazy and indulgent post-orgasm, because he just takes it, lets Dean kiss him however he likes.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna need to go again,” Meg tells them, voice low and lazy somewhere over Dean’s head. He fumbles one hand up between them to flip her off, which only makes her laugh and run a palm up his back, more soothing than provocative.

They linger like that, bodies cooling together, until Castiel gives a soft whine into Dean’s mouth, and he looks up to watch Meg pulling away. She shimmies her hips a little as she crawls towards the far edge of the bed and it draws his gaze to her ass and then… Oh holy hell, he can  _ see _ Castiel’s come where it’s leaking out of her.

Dean moans “Jesus, fuck,” and buries his face in Castiel’s shoulder. Meg laughs at his pain – she totally did that on purpose - and slips off the bed for the bathroom. 

A damp washcloth sails out of the bathroom and onto the bed, and Castiel groans as he gently dislodges Dean and sits up to reach for it. The sound of the shower coming on drifts out of the bathroom. Castiel gives his own chest and cock a perfunctory wipedown, hissing a little with oversensitivity, then folds it clean side out and gestures to Dean.

“Roll over and let me look at you.” Dean groans - he doesn’t want to move, like, ever - but he does it, and Castiel’s touch is gentle as he spreads Dean open, cleans up what he can. He grunts and shoots a glare back over his shoulder when Castiel’s fingers prod a little too firmly. Castiel glances up at him, gaze heavy, then smoothes the offending hand over his ass cheek to his hip and squeezes a soft apology there. 

“You’re fine,” Castiel tells him, and Dean thinks that he is, he really is. “You’ll probably be a little sore for a bit.” He tosses the cloth unerringly onto the pile of laundry accumulating atop their hamper and slides back up the bed. There are three full glasses of water nestled together on the bedside table, and Castiel stretches to reach two of them, passing one to Dean. He drinks most of it down, greedily at first, then more slowly, before letting Castiel return it to the bedside table. Once Castiel is settled back down, Dean wiggles gracelessly, too content to even care how undignified he must look, until he can throw an arm over Castiel’s chest and a leg over his hip, sleepiness starting to overtake him.

Meg comes out of the bathroom and slinks up onto the bed, hair dry, but skin damp and smelling of Castiel’s fancy farmer’s market soap. “Where would you like me?” She asks, and Dean knows she’s asking him, and he’s grateful for it.

“My side,” he tells her, and she settles in against his back, pulling the comforter up over their legs. He twists a little, angles his face for a brief kiss, and when they part he murmurs a quiet “Thanks.” He’s still a little embarrassed to say it, but this is another thing he’s getting better at.

She kisses him again, soft, but a little more lingering. “Anytime.”

When Dean settles back, he feels the soft press of Castiel kissing his hair, and then a soft “Good boy” that rumbles against his ear. He smiles into Castiel’s skin, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Note:_ No one uses condoms in this fic based on prior agreement between the three of them about risks and the precautions they each take. Practice safer sex, folks 💙
> 
> I am also on Tumblr as [QueerBluebird](queerbluebird.tumblr.com), where I almost exclusively reblog SPN art and fic, mostly destiel.


End file.
